Secret Secrets
by MidnightManic
Summary: Rogue has many secrets, but this one may ruin her hard earned reputation. Follow Rogue on her adventure to rid herself of the guilt- and one extremely obnoxious stalker. A fun, slightly ROMY one-shot.


**Title: **Secret Secrets

**Disclaimer: **I don't even own the rights to my college degrees and will not for many, many, many years… It's called a starving student, and by the state of my fridge, I'm living the dream.

**Pairing:** Rogue and Remy

**Rating: **Teen

**Warnings:** May be slightly offensive to those who have embraced those wretched boots…

**Summary: **Rogue has many secrets, but this one may ruin her hard earned reputation. Follow Rogue on her adventure to rid herself of the guilt- and one extremely obnoxious stalker.

**Secret Secrets**

Whenever Rogue thought about the "gift" that was her mutation, she couldn't deny that the first thoughts automatically drifted towards the pessimistic side. After all, when anyone first hears about what she can do, it's pretty heavy and daunting and one might feel the need to slowly inch away. With words like "drain," "coma," and "death" fixed into the explanation of her powers, it was hard to see the light at the end of the tunnel.

So when someone finally asked her the upside of her situation nonchalantly, she was floored and rendered speechless. What upside was there to being an unimaginative, highly un-sexy life-sucking-vampire with none of the cool vampiric perks?

But she began trying to think about the perks, because she wasn't by nature a pessimist; she had simply lost hope that her situation would get better. But she laid down one day and unable to get herself to sleep, she really thought about it. She came up with nothing earth shattering but a few intangible benefits that really didn't benefit anyone but herself (and that was pushing it).

She decided she was given a better appreciation for life. As she reasoned, you didn't really appreciate life until it was almost taken away from you. And for her, this had been the case a couple of times. She had been given various memories of accidents, tragedies, death; planned or unplanned, it didn't matter. When it really came down to it, you just never _knew_ when something was going to happen. Given that touching was a very common activity, and she had the "gift" to take away life by said common activity, she had to admit it gave her a certain respect for life. Not that she went so far as think she was a God, who giveth and taketh away, but it was still a frightening thought to think she could kill so easily.

More importantly, she decided her power gave her an even higher appreciation of privacy. To her, privacy was such a valuable gift and she couldn't even explain how she longed for it on a daily basis. It was hard for her to really feel comfortable in a place as chaotic as the Institute, but since she had begged for her own room, she became more at ease.

However, she appreciated privacy so much more as more and more information came to light about her friends whenever she absorbed them. She felt terrible really; she just _ripped_ some of their more private traits and habits out of them without their consent. Then, she'd feel even more terrible whenever she would accidently blurt out some of the information in a conversation with someone else, their face would go beet red, and it would be uncomfortable between them for some while after. It was annoying.

So really, mental privacy was a big thing for her. Rogue had some secrets that she could _definitely_ go without knowing about her friends and did her best now to monitor her words in a conversation. But also, she was grateful she wasn't on the receiving end of her gift.

Because Rogue had secrets.

Secrets that would lead to her ruin.

Secrets that she'd have to kill someone for just _hinting_.

There were a few things she didn't mind people knowing about her. For example, her favorite color was purple and green. Granted, this was an obvious fact about her, but there were other things, too. Like how she listened to jazz and country (even though she freely admitted most of country was terrible). Or how she couldn't drink orange juice with the pulp because it made her gag. Also, she was an avid consumer of fried food _and _never had to watch her weight.

Okay, well, that one wasn't really a secret. But she sure as hell liked throwing this fact in people's faces.

But there were other, more serious things about her that she didn't want people to find out. Things that could ruin her reputation as a hardass.

For example, how she didn't remember her actual birthday and was highly unsure of her real name. These were things lost in the fires, the fires she vaguely remembered at the time she lived with the real parents she vaguely remembered. When she was found by Irene and Mystique, the only things she could babble was some slurred, child-like version of her first and middle name and some indiscernible last name. She was young, and with the ages she gradually lost the mumbling of her real first name. Her adoptive mothers gave her lee-way to do a lot of things, like make her own moniker and birthday. They gave her their last name.

And every year since then, she had hesitated and stuttered when it came to telling people her birthday (and pretty much never told anyone her last name if possible). Not that people didn't know her birthday (Kitty had been adamant with remembering every year), but people didn't know it was her real birthday. And more, they didn't know that all she had ever wanted for her birthday was to know when it actually was and then (if she was lucky) what her real name was.

She also wanted to know who her real parents were and how and why… well, she wanted to know pretty much everything.

Rogue realized that if anything, these secrets weren't anything that could ruin her. Sure, they might lend an insight on to why Rogue was the way she was, and even help her relate to other people. But then… there were the secrets of mortification. The secrets that would ruin her street cred. The secrets she had to take to the grave with her.

She flinched every time she thought about these secrets, these vices and thoughts she had to keep firmly to herself. Ultimately, she knew she shouldn't be ashamed and these were the little bits that made her _her. _But still… there were some things that were better left unsaid…

Like how she had been into the Spice Girl phase and even tried to convince Irene to let her dye her hair just a _liiiittle_ bit redder so she could be just like Ginger Spice. In fact, some of the boots she now owned were an inspiration from that phase.

Or how, right after the Spice Girl phase, she found herself in the boy band phase, mmm-bopping and bye-bye-bye-ing with the millions of other girls her age.

And how she secretly wanted to try bump-its, maybe not to wear every day, but at least for some kind of event.

And how, if her mutation didn't keep her celibate, she'd like to give Remy LeBeau a go (just a one night thing to shut his perv mouth up, of course).

How she thought Hello Kitty was sickeningly adorable, but she had to refrain herself from even going into the stores as she knew she'd go overboard and come out pink and happy and mouthless.

And how she found out one day when Kitty was taking care of her, microplush extra large Snuggies make the best blanket any deathly ill girl can ask for. And, when you're feeling better, the brown Snuggie also doubles for a Jedi coat.

But as she thought about these minor offenses to her image, she almost didn't want to voice the biggest one (in her opinion).

Yet, even as she clicked off the webpage she had been entertained with for the last few days, she knew she had to finally admit it to herself. This… was one step closer to accepting things about herself, right? To loving herself, to making amends with herself and her past. It was one step closer to maturity… and maybe control.

Okay, well, she couldn't go _that _far.

But, as she stood up purposefully, it could definitely help her feel like a human again.

She looked down at her feet and nodded firmly. Maybe she wasn't ready to say it publicly, but to herself…

"I…" she faltered and took another deep breath.

"I like…" She shook her head. A wobbly resolve would never do. She clenched her fist and took another long breath.

"I like Uggs."

It was a firm resolution.

But she still crumpled up on her bed, hanging her head in shame.

It was out. The secret finally unveiled itself. It was out of her system and floating towards the ozone. But she still cringed. This secret was buried deep inside of her, in a dormant state, only to be reawakened with the increasingly chilly weather and the re-emergence of Kitty's Uggs.

And with that, she narrowed her eyes. This was all _Kitty's_ fault. Rogue would have been fine and happy with her hatred of Uggs before… the incident. Because really, these boots (if you could even call them that) were abominations to fashion. They _literally_ put the "ug" in "ugly". In Rogue's (former) opinion, the only people that should be allowed to wear them are Eskimos. That's it.

And naturally, she had told Kitty all of these things when she came home from that one winter vacation, elated with her new shoe-things.

But Kitty wasn't fazed. She waved her off, "Thousands of girls can't be wrong, my gothy roommate. I'm, like, so totally glad my parents were able to get me the right ones. I heard all the retailers in the tri-state area had their stock totally demolished for the holidays."

And Kitty had paraded around the Mansion gleefully with her Uggs for days after she came home. And Rogue paraded right behind Kitty, looking for any excuse to make fun of the ugly, dirt-colored _thing_ that was eating up Kitty's feet. After a week of pestering, Kitty finally cornered Rogue in their room.

"You," she hissed, pointing her finger at Rogue, her face in an angry pout.

Rogue just raised her eyebrows and bet herself Kitty was mad about something Rogue wore today.

"Is a pronoun." Rogue answered back, leafing lazily through her book.

"Take off your shoes," Kitty commanded.

"Sorry Kit, I'm not into that."

A colorful, stuffed dragon was thrown at her face.

"Take off your shoes or so help me I'll do it for you."

She just stared at Kitty plainly, and went back to being nose deep in her book.

And she felt the oddest sensation in her feet.

She jumped up off the bed, Kitty next to her with her huge boots in hand.

"Jeez, foot rape much?" she exclaimed indignantly, rubbing her now sensitive feet.

Kitty threw her Uggs at Rogue.

"Put them on."

Rogue looked at the shoes, then at Kitty, shoes, Kitty… "Mmm… no," she said as slowly and clearly as she could.

"You cannot bash them until you put them on."

"No… I can… They're horrifically ugly, see?"

And the gurgled, almost rabid noise that erupted from Kitty's throat made Rogue widen her eyes in almost fear.

And then she was tackled to her bed.

"Help! Kitty's gone crazy!" Rogue screeched, thrashing and praying Logan heard. The girl was _strong_ when she wanted to be.

"You will put them on _and you will like it!_" Kitty screeched just as loud, pinning Rogue's arms to the bed and phasing her mesh top down into the top layer of the mattress.

"No! No! I won't! You can't make me!"

Kitty reached over for the boots. Rogue's eyes widened.

"No! No! Somebody help!" Why wasn't anyone coming? Why did no one care?

"It's for your own good, Rogue!" She cackled as she shimmied up the tall boots up her leg.

"My leg! My leg!" she moaned. "Have mercy, Kitty!"

"None for you!" She grabbed the other boot and shoved it on. With both feet securely covered, she squished the shoe around Rogue's calf. "Do you feel it! Do you feel the warmth! The comfort! The love?"

And Rogue moaned and twisted listlessly on the bed. "I can't… I can't feel my feet… my feet… my poor feet…"

"Oh hush up, you whiner." Kitty yanked Rogue's shirt out of the bedspread. "Now stand. Stand and let your feet feel the wonders of these magical boots!"

"Ugh… Kitty…"

"Stand, I say!"

And like a scene out of Frankenstein, she lifted herself back to life. Kitty helped yank her up the rest of the way.

Rogue looked down… it was weird…

It was as if…

It was as if there were furry teddy bears just _hugging_ her legs….

Or as if she was walking the cloudy staircase to _heaven_…

Or as if her feet were encased in marshmallow fluff that had just been warmed in the microwave…

She shuddered, feeling herself being _loved_ by these shoes, imagining what it would feel like with her feet bare. Oh god… oh no…

"Well?" Kitty's voice broke her thoughts. She was waiting eagerly for Rogue's response.

Rogue looked down again. Oh why…

"They're the ugliest things I've ever seen. And it looks like it just took my legs home for dinner."

It was true. They were the ugliest shoes she had ever seen. But…

But that didn't mean she wasn't now wretchedly in love with them.

Kitty threw her hands in the air. "You're impossible!"

"Uh-huh," Rogue murmured, still reveling as quietly as possible about _these goddamned boots_.

"And of _all_ the people to make me feel guilty for wearing them!" Kitty ranted.

"Uh-huh," was Rogue's constant reply through her rant. How did this feel so wrong but so, so good?

And it was as if she could suddenly see the future, as if she was channeling Destiny. She could see herself wearing these darn things! She could see the color (black) and how wonderfully they would work with every outfit she owned. She could be warm! She could live up north and have a semblance of warmth!

Rogue snapped out of her fantasy as Kitty started shaking her.

"Uh, hello? What the heck?"

Rogue shook her head free of her previous thoughts. "Uh, sorry…" How was she going to get out of this? "I was just thinkin' of the best way to destroy these the next time you make me put them on."

Kitty squeaked and pushed Rogue back on the bed.

"Jesus, Kitty! Rape!"

Kitty phased the boots off Rogue's feet. "You will do _no_ such thing!" She grabbed the boots possessively to her chest. She marched to her side of the room and pouted, hiding her boots, and muttering to herself about Goths with no fashion sense and unappreciative roommates.

As Rogue looked back on… the incident… she couldn't help begrudge Kitty for not keeping those wretched shoes hidden. Because if they were hidden, they wouldn't be on Rogue's mind.

But they _weren't_ hidden. Kitty wore them _everywhere_. And then when she came home, she just threw them on the floor, completely forgetting that she wasn't supposed to keep them well within Rogue's eyesight.

And at first, Rogue would just slip them on to see if they were still really as good as everyone said they were. And they were. Brief moments turned into long affairs as she started wearing them when she knew Kitty wasn't going to be around. It got cold in the Institute during the winter, and she didn't own slippers… so she would just slip them on while she lay in bed and throw a blanket over her feet to hide them. Eventually, they lost a lot of their sole fluff, but that was okay, they were still comfy with or without socks.

And then… Kitty put them away for the summer. It was like breathing a breath of fresh air. She was free! She could go back to just wearing socks and not jump every time Kitty phased into the room. She was free of this ugly curse and all its social ramifications!

It never occurred to Rogue that there would be a time Kitty would take them back out of their summer hideaway. It seemed more the case that Kitty would forever abandon them, claiming they were "so last season". Up until earlier this week, she had been living her life just fine, those horrific boots a phase of the past… but Rogue was wrong. So, so wrong.

She had opened the door to Kitty's room after school, only to find Kitty parading around in those awful boots. She stopped, her feet suddenly tingly. It was a horrifying moment- she had prayed that it was out of her system. She had been Ugg free for months! Why now? Why?

"It's Ugg season!" Kitty cheered happily.

"Mmm, the season where poor animals are tortured for their fur," Rogue sighed mournfully to herself, stopped, and refocused on Kitty. "Aren't you for animal right, you veggie?"

Kitty's face got a bit tinged. "Don't you even start with me, missy! I just got new insoles for these!"

"New insoles?" Oh no…

Kitty reached inside the boot and pulled out a furry _thing_.

"They sell sole replacements so you can always have that wonderful, new Ugg feeling!"

She fought her body's initial reaction to beat the Uggs off Kitty. Oh no…

And within the week, she found herself back in the same Ugg-induced routine. Except this time… it was different. They didn't share a room anymore… so this time… this time she was plotting to keep them over vacation, while Kitty was at home.

She had a fantastic elaborate plan, schemed out in the comfort of her bed and Kitty's Uggs. She'd practice hiding the boots in the week before Kitty left for home. That way, Kitty would be "absentminded" and exasperated that she could never find them. Then, she could hide the boots completely right before Kitty had to leave for Chicago. Kitty would be inevitably late to leave, and would just leave her boots behind…But she had snapped out of it the moment she was away from her room and _away from the boots_.

She was horrified with herself. Essentially _stealing_ these shameful boots just to keep her feet warm. She was no homeless person! Why did she feel as though she needed to resort to these measures? There had to be a better solution to this problem.

Sometime during the night as she had been pondering/obsessing over her dilemma, it hit her. The perfect solution to her problem. And it sparked something in her like sitting on a tack on a chair. It itched like a leg infested with mosquito bites in the summer.

It was time to own her own pair. She had her own room and some money saved up. It was time…_ She needed to scratch this itch_.

But now… as she closed down her computer and prepared for her solo trip to New York… she cringed again. There was so much room for error in her trip, error which would cause her secret to explode a gossip tirade in the Institute, noxious and pervasive like chemical warfare.

But she stood up. She wanted some, she was getting some.

Slipping on her jacket, she took one last look to make sure her stripes were hidden and her outfit was non-descript. Her purse was packed with directions to the three main Ugg retailers, as well as the item number, pictures, hours, phone numbers… she had done her research. The only flaw to her plan… was getting there.

Closing her room, she walked casually to the boys' hall. This next move would take finesse, but her plan necessitated this action. She turned the hall, preparing her opening sentence, when she slammed into Remy LeBeau.

She internally groaned. This was the exact last person she wanted to see right now.

"_Chére_, fancy seein' you over here," he hummed, gripping her arms longer than needed to stabilize her. "You wouldn't happen to be goin' to this Cajun's room, would you?"

She rolled her eyes. "Hells no. I just took a shower and I'd prefer to stay clean." She swatted his arms off her, making sure to keep her bag close to her. She did _not_ need him pocketing her plan.

"_Mais_, I could clean you up real nice after…" he trailed off suggestively.

Swatting him hard on the arm, she began to walk away. "Buzz off, you damn swamp rat." She could hear is chuckle fading as she went back into the depths of the boys wing. Glancing furtively to make sure Remy hadn't followed, she positioned her hand on the door and knocked.

A moment later and the door unlocked.

"Oh hey, Rogue." Scott looked bewildered and confused. "What can I do for you?"

She looked down the hall again. She had a sneaking suspicion Remy would still be there. Scott opened his door wider at her furtive glances and invited her in.

"I need a favor," she replied lowly. Blunt, to the point, no room for small talk.

"Suuuure," he replied slowly. "What's up?"

"I need to borrow your car."

He flinched. "Rogue… I don't…"

"I got a better drivin' record than all the kids here combined."

He rubbed the back of his head uncomfortably.

"I only need it for a few hours tops."

He made a grimacing face.

"You owe me," she deadpanned.

"What?"

"I'm sure the… _couch incident_ isn't the first and last time it'll happen while the kids are out to play. I'd hate for Logan to walk in on you two _every time_ the Mansion is empty," she threatened.

He paled slightly. And grimaced. And twitched. And made a gurgled, rabid sound in the back of his throat. She just smiled sweetly, batting her eyes. She could see the internal battle of his head: his car or alone time with Jean?

With one long, resolved sigh, he dug into his pockets and unearthed his key, passing it over to her with a shaky hand.

"Just… just don't… just don't hurt her, please," he whispered, pleadingly.

"No problem, Scotty boy," she grinned, throwing the keys in her purse. "And thank _you_ for your cooperation." She began walking to the door, humming triumphantly.

"Wait!"

She turned. "Yes?"

"Do you even _have_ a driver's license?"

She grinned. "Course I do."

"Where did you learn how to drive?" She laughed lightly, forgetting they had never seen her drive. This was one of many relatively unknown secrets- that Irene needed her as a driver and she had gotten her license many years earlier.

"With good ole boys on country back roads," she smiled cheekily. He was almost as white as her. As she was closing the door, she poked her head back in to the mourning team leader. "And for the record, this never happened."

She walked down the hall quite triumphantly, tossing the keys inside her hidden purse. All she had to do was get down to the garage undetected… Turning the corner again, she managed to stop herself before she ran into that wretched, smirking Remy LeBeau. She had to stop herself from jumping a few feet. Goddamn him, why?

Shuffling his cards, he pouted. "You goin' somewhere without this Cajun?"

She growled. She thought she had been quiet enough in Scott's room to make it difficult for Remy the inevitable eavesdropper to hear. This was one of the issues in her plan: the obnoxious Remy LeBeau. She had to shake him off her trail _quick_.

"Girl time with Wanda. No boys allowed," she responded coolly, praying it didn't sound too rehearsed.

"Good thing I'm a man then, _non_?" he grinned.

She looked him up and down once, clearly scrutinizing him. "Whatever you say, sug'," she commended saccharinely. His eyes narrowed in a pout and his eyes glowed. She knew he hated when his man card was compromised.

He slinked up towards her, pinning her up against the wall. "Don't gotta do nothin' but show you, _chére_," he murmured.

She remained unfazed as she patted his cheek condescendingly. "Sorry, sug, show and tell stopped bein' fun in grade school. Why don't you see if some of the other boys wanna go catch worms and play in the mud? Ain't that what you boys do nowadays?"

All too casually, she sashayed off, leaving the glowering Cajun behind. She made it to the kitchen calmly, before she near sprinted out to the garage. She was almost home free. Nobody had seen her and it was looking like it'd be that way.

Rogue slammed open the door and nearly skidded into Logan. She slammed her mouth shut to keep from squealing in surprise.

Logan just raised an eyebrow at her. "Goin' somewhere?"

"Uh, yeah. Just doin' some shoppin'." It was the full truth, and not a complete lie like she told Remy.

"Didn't want to take Half-Pint?" She gave him a _look_. He snorted in amusement. "Yea, I know. What car you takin'?"

Flipping the key around her finger, she grinned deviously. "Scott's."

"Blackmail?"

"Of the best kind."

"Drive safe."

"Will do," she called back, climbing into Scott's car and opening the garage. "Do me a favor?"

He grunted.

"Disconnect the Cajun's bike for me, willya?"

She swore she saw him chuckle while he unconnected some cables in her rearview mirror.

Rogue was relatively jittery as she made her way through New York's freeways. The first half hour was a constant look back to make sure no one was following. As time passed and it looked like she was in the clear, she relaxed. Why would anyone be interested in where she was going? She laughed at the thought, but then sobered up when she remembered how many times she had been sought out by mutant and human terrorists.

The drive was roughly an hour the first of three retailers. She had hoped she would only need to hit one, but it was getting close to the holiday season and most other retailers had run out of her all-too-common Ugg size. If anyone had to have her shoes, it would be the mother ship.

Finding her designated parking garage, she assembled herself in her secret clothes. Hiding her stripe and her eyes, she became as non-descript as she could. If she was lucky, she could be in and out quickly and then could avoid paying major parking fees. She grinned. She was prepared, she was ready; she felt lucky today.

She scurried out of the garage and onto the streets, spotting the street signs to guide her on her way. Head bent down to avoid recognition (because this also was a dangerous trip for a lone mutant in the heartland of occasional crazy anti-mutant-ness), she rushed down the few blocks away from her first destination.

Waiting at a stop light, she tried to blow the exhaust away from her face, but it was no use. The sheer amount of traffic made her cough and wish for a gas mask. She sighed. She definitely wasn't a city girl. It was noisy on the streets, but it made sense. It was the middle of the day on a weekend. She smiled ruefully though; amongst the noise, she swore she heard a bike that roared the exact pitch of Logan's bike. But why would she worry about Logan being around? She highly doubted he cared for the small happenings of her day and he certainly wasn't a gossipmonger.

Turning a street, she could see the store with its billowing sign. She smiled slightly. So close, yet so far. It looked like it was in a slightly scummier part of New York; but then again, she never really found cityscapes appealing. She hurried into the store, surprised by its quaint outside and lavish inside. She immediately felt uncomfortable as she took off her cheap sunglasses and shoved them into her cheap purse. It occurred to her that this store was worth more in shoes than she was as an in demand mutant.

Also, there were a ridiculous amount of people in the store.

Regardless, she had a mission.

She tugged her clothes to make sure everything was in place and powered through. Maneuvering to their classic section, she marched over and picked up the black tall classic Uggs and shuddered in delight. In her eyes, they were ugly as fuck. But on her feet… oh man, oh man. She continued smiling like an idiot until a salesgirl finally came by.

"Can I help you find something? Maybe get you a size?"

Rogue startled out of her Ugg-induced stupor and stepped away from the slightly too-close girl.

"Errr, yeah. Could I get these in a size seven, please?"

The girl nodded too enthusiastically. "Cool, I'll bring them out to you in a hot second."

Rogue stood in that exact spot, waiting for her shoes to come to her. She found it hard not to shudder when she saw the other girls in the stores. They all looked the same: posh, designer, bubbly, giggly, snobby, rich, manicured… everything she wasn't. Wrinkling her nose, she tried to focus elsewhere. Like the mounds and mounds of Uggs on the walls and in the aisles.

They were hideous. Hideous colors, hideous styles (although the knit button ones were cute, and if it wasn't for the fact they didn't have fur on the sides, she would have gotten them in a heartbeat…). Some of them looked like a 5 year old got to them with a sharpie; others looked like that 5 year old went to town on them with a BeDazzler. She sighed. Could she _really_ say anything, now that she was at the store joining the crowd completely willingly?

She felt a tap at her shoulder and flinched. The sales girl looked taken aback.

"Sorry," she apologized, clearly bewildered as to what she had done to make Rogue freak out. "We actually just ran out of stock on that size and size 8. We do have a few pairs in a size 6 though."

Rogue's heart sank and her face dropped. She had called to make _sure_ they would have some sizes available. Apparently the demand was too great within the 2 hours since that time.

"No, sorry, that size would be too small," she heard herself mumble through the sadness.

"Would another color work?"

"Not really…"

The girl offered an apologetic face. "Your combination happens to be one of the most popular. Did you want us to call you when we get them in stock?"

"That's fine," Rogue sighed numbly. "I'll just go to the other stores. Thanks anyways…"

The girl offered her luck and went on her way, helping the massive group of giggling girls that just pranced in.

Rogue took out her sunglasses again and adjusted them as she walked outside. While she was sorely disappointed, she was prepared for this situation. Kitty had unwittingly warned her of the horrors of Ugg-shopping before the holiday season and it was rightly stated. She rushed down her original path, head held low with gloved hands clutching her hood on. She maneuvered past a massive throng of people as she turned the corner-

And flew into someone. Hard.

She grunted as she was set upright by strong hands.

Strong hands with partially cut off gloves.

And a trenchcoat.

A low hiss escaped her lips as she yanked herself away. If she was lucky, she could just nip off without being recognized. She _was_ incognito, after all.

She mumbled an apology and began hastily walking away. All was going well until her arm was grasped and she was yanked backwards again. Shit.

"_Chére_, again? Really? You really need to watch where you're goin'," he lightly admonished.

"Or maybe you need to buzz the hell off," she growled. How the _hell_ did he get here right after she did? She had Logan dismember his bike for crying out loud! And how the _hell_ was she going to get him off her trail?

He slung an arm around her unwilling shoulder and they began perusing the streets of New York. She sighed impatiently. Her boots were somewhere far away _waiting_ for her and here was a stalker Swamp Rat taking up her time and making her pay another 20 minutes for parking! She was so angry she could spit.

"Now, correct me if I'm wrong, but didn't you say you were havin' some girl time with the Scarlet Witch? Where'd she go to leave you all on your lonesome?"

"It ain't none of your business, Swamp Rat," she growled, taking his hand and nearly hurling it off her shoulder.

"Could it be that you were," he took a moment and placed a hand over his heart, "_lyin'_ to me?"

"Or could it be you're ridiculously obnoxious?" she sneered while still trying to keep track of where she was going, which was beginning to look exactly like her parking garage. "What the hell are you doin' here anyways?"

"I could ask you that very same question, Rogue. Seems to me like you're tryin' not to be seen again." Remy pointed to her outfit and flicked her sunglasses. She slapped him away again.

"And it seems to me like you're bein' a stalker again," she retorted.

He laughed. "Not my fault some of the best entertainment's in SoHo. Care to visit a bar or two with me?" he leaned into her ear, using his typical husky, charming voice. She swatted him away. Not only was he fishing to get her in trouble and wasted again, but he was evading her questions and refusing to tell her what he was actually doing here.

They passed by her garage entrance and she halted, narrowing her eyes at him. "Can it, Cajun. I've got more important things to do than get drunk with you in the middle of the day."

"Oh yeah? And what would that be? What's The Rogue hidin' today?" He studied her carefully, waiting and examining her for a lie. She knew that she'd have to _pray_ her cheeks didn't blush in embarrassment- it would give her away so fast she'd never get away.

So she narrowed her eyes again. "None'ya business, so git."

He gave her a long his long smoldering look and stepped closer, a slight smirk on his face. "Secret secrets are no fun," he murmured, grabbing her gloved hand and placing a kiss on it. "_Au revoir, Chére._"

Yanking her hand back, she turned on her heel and marched into the garage. If she was lucky, she could lose him in the crowded streets. And if she was luckier, he wouldn't bother to follow and would _actually_ be going to pick up a slut at a bar (not that it was a far shot, but it was early afternoon…).

Clamoring into the car and checking all her surroundings, she waited just a few more minutes- just in case. Sure, she'd have to pay extra… but life would be great if she didn't have to worry about one Remy LeBeau… She pulled the cover down, cursing Scott and his noticeable cherry red convertible. For mutants who were trying to keep a cover, they sure did have some flashy cars….

Regardless, she verified her directions with her printed out map. She had them memorized from earlier that night… when she was too excited to sleep so she kept going over the game plan…

She peeled out of the garage as fast as she could (why was parking so goddamned expensive anyways? She wasn't a rich Ugg-buyer, that's for sure) and kept her eyes peeled for the resident annoyance. She heard nothing, smelt nothing, and felt nothing staring at her. She was good to go… she hoped.

It took too long to traverse the busy New York streets the mere 5 miles it took to get to her next destination. She cursed herself for following the ABC format of Google Maps. It was not well thought out and she should have just gone for convenience. Honking the horn no less than 10 times, she finally made it to her second garage (and it prices were just as outrageous as the last). She hadn't _felt_ anyone watching her traverse the busy city streets, and she hoped her instincts weren't wrong. If he were to find out this secret… well, mortified is the softest word in her vocabulary to describe how she would feel. There would be no end to the teasing, the winks, the _sheer knowing looks_ he would give her…

She'd have to leave the Institute.

After she killed him, of course.

Rushing down the busy streets, she reminded herself of the landmarks she would need to safely make it to the second store. There was a Starbucks one block over from her store as well as a Reebok thing and some kind of wine shop. While she could hardly use the latter two places as an alibi, Starbucks was definitely up her alley for a good cover story. Quickly walking down the streets and keeping her eyes peeled for unwanted visitors, she halted quickly, near missing her destination completely. She didn't expect a massive superstore, but she did expect it to be less non-descript than it actually was.

But regardless, there it was. The second Ugg store of New York. It was discreet yet posh on the outside, with its window full of Ugg-y things. She opened the doors and was greeting with a ridiculously bright light and weird squiggly things on the ceiling and lots of earthy brown. Lots. Like, it was like she was in a dirt pit, it was so brown. The girls were just the same and the crowd was just the same. She already felt out of place as she tugged off her glasses and made her way around the store as bump-free as possible.

She eventually found her classic Uggs after traversing a nicely designed store, but with odd designing structures. There was very little sitting room; what looked like benches were actually being used as Ugg displays. How… odd. And there was a TV in there too, displaying comfy scenes in which you could use your Uggs. Again… odd.

But whatever! She traversed carefully, trying not to gag at the Be-dazzled Uggs and trying to not destroy the Ugg purses with her mind. And she eventually found it, the black, tall, classic Uggs, hidden behind the obnoxiously colored ones, far removed from the flashier, more expensive pairs. But she found it.

And she felt the glow-y smile light her face. She imagined this to be the same smile that would grace her face should she ever get the opportunity to have a child. It would be the first time she could hold her baby and she would smile just like this.

It was a slightly sobering thought that she would never really get that opportunity and this was her one shot… but happy thoughts! This was a happy time! Her heart did a little dance again, but she couldn't let herself get too happy. What happened at the last store could happen at this store…

She shook her head, trying to rid herself of bad thoughts. None of that! She grabbed the boot precariously and checked it out. It wasn't her size, but it was exactly what she wanted. Hopefully… A salesgirl walked over to Rogue's carefully placed field of vision and began the selling charade. Rogue quickly put on her sweet face and asked for her size. If she was sweet, better things were likely to come her way.

Rogue waited for the girl come back… and it took longer than she expected. So she perused the store, again, mentally mocking the ugly things and then mentally chastising herself. She had started on the other half of the store when she felt a tingling on the back of her neck. She touched it lightly, hoping it was just an odd, misplaced hair tickling her neck. She got closer to the front and it increased.

By chance, she lifted her head out of the Ugg clouds and by chance, looked out the window.

And right in front of her, staring at her intently, grinning like a fool, with a cancer stick dangling from his mouth, hands slung in his pocket, was none other than the resident irritation of the Institute, Remy LeBeau.

Her eyes widened quickly and she quickly flipped the other way to avoid his gaze. _Oh god, oh god, ohgod, ohgodohgodohgodohgoddddd, why?_

Her heart pounded and she couldn't stop the immediate deep red blush to her face. She had been found out. She was toast. Everyone would know and then… _oh oh oh god_. Who was she if she didn't have her reputation? Who, damnit?

But maybe he didn't see her! Maybe it wasn't even him! Maybe he was just a figment of her truly messed up mind!

Secret answer d! All of the above!

She walked back to the display she had been left at and kept her back to the window. But she felt it. She felt his hot gaze burn into her side. She shifted her head slightly towards the window… and there he was, having shifted from one side of the store to the other side's window, still grinning like a freaking idiot.

She was sooo screwed.

Rogue began hyperventilating. She had no idea how to get out of this, only that she needed to with the intensity of 12 sets of rock hard abs. Was there a back door? Would they even _let_ her go through the back door? She chewed on the tip of her glove and when the sales girl came back out, Rogue nearly had a heart attack.

Again, the sales girl looked horribly bewildered and almost scared of Rogue. But sadly, her expression was too similar to the previous sales girl.

"I'm sorry, but we're completely out of that color. Did you want to try another color?"

"N-n-n-no," she stuttered uneasily, before clearing her throat. Damn him for getting her this flustered! "Any idea when a new shipment of these is going to come in?" she heard herself ask.

The girl shook her head sadly. "We don't get any advanced notice so it could be any day now…"

Rogue's disappointment was overshadowed by her need to get the hell out of there without having to deal with Remy. She felt herself nodding, still pondering the back door idea.

"You… um… where's your farthest exit?

The girl looked at Rogue like she was on crack. "Uhh, there…" She pointed hesitantly to the front door.

Rogue sighed, not needing to follow. "Yeah, that's what I thought," she muttered under her breath, walking to the door. This should be fun.

She dug her glasses out of her purse and put them on to try (which looked stupid because the sun was pretty much setting) and avoid his following gaze, but it was useless. He came sauntering up to her the minute she left the door. She stood there, glaring at him _so hard_ and just wished he would explode like his damn cards. He grinned, looked at her, looked at the store sign above him, and looked back at her. And laughed.

"Shut up! I'm lookin' for Kitty's Christmas present!"

He continued laughing.

"And would you just stop stalkin' me! This is so. Damn. Creepy! What the hell do you want?" She slapped his arm hard when he didn't stop his raucous laughter.

"_Chére_, you are such a bad liar," he gasped out.

"I am not, you stupid Cajun!" She hit him again. He grabbed her arm and pulled her closer. She struggled against him.

"Gettin' Scoot's car, sayin' you're out with Wanda, gettin' the badger to mess up my car- I'll have you know, that one hurt the most, _chére_."

"I'll show you hurt, you nut," she hissed, shaking free of his grasp.

"But it all makes sense now. You, the Rogue, who has ranted and raged 'bout 'em… you like Uggs."

Rogue felt her face flush a deep red as her face cringed into a deep scowl and she growled.

"You shut your damn mouth, you idiot! You don't know nothin', ya hear! I'm just gettin' Kitty some new ones and if I told anyone, it'd ruin the surprise!"

Remy chuckled again, giving her another appraising look over. He stroked his goatee thoughtfully.

"Y'know, it's a good alibi," he responded after a moment's thought.

"It ain't an alibi, it's the damn truth."

"It's believable, it's possible, and hell, it explains all the sneakin' around you've been doin' lately."

"I have not been sneakin' around!"

"_Mais,_ there's only one flaw in your plan."

She narrowed her eyes dangerously. "Would you stop bein' so damn stupid!"

"The boots you were holdin' were black."

Her heart skipped a beat. _Fuck._

"And we all know how the _chat_ don't like anythin' black."

She clenched her fist. She would begin his death with a sound beat down.

"But it looks like everywhere you've gone don't got 'em. The question is, what are you gonna do now?"

She absolutely _abhorred_ when he was right.

Rogue retracted her fist and flipped around, walking fast down the busy New York street. She didn't have _time_ to waste on that stupid Cajun. She was on a mission and damn it all to hell if she didn't get her Uggs.

She flew down the New York streets, determined to get to the final Ugg store before it closed. It was getting late and if she didn't make it in time…

Well, let's just say there would be one less Cajun in the world.

Scott's steering wheel took the brunt of her anger as she was stuck in the traffic of New York. Google maps predicted only a 6 minute distance, but apparently today was the exception. She felt fidgety and paranoid- was he still trailing her? Was he looking at her _right now_?

Squealing into the first close parking garage, she dashed out and onto the streets again. Down one street and across another, she felt the familiar feelings of panic bubbling in her chest. Was she lost? Was this it? Would she never get them?

But before she could collapse in a nervous breakdown in the middle of a street, she saw it.

She saw it, and it was beautiful.

There was the last Ugg store, florescent like the gates of heaven, huge like the mother ship it was.

She could cry.

Rushing up, she took the door handle and yanked hard. It was locked. It was locked and it wasn't budging and she kept pulling and pulling and pulling. Both doors wouldn't budge. The glass shook against the frame. Oh god no… she fumbled for her phone and looked at the time. It was barely 6:45! She still had 15 minutes!

And then she saw the sign. Push.

Push not pull.

She slapped her head. This Ugg craze had officially made her stupid.

Walking it a lot more quietly this time, she marched purposefully through the extremely posh store. It was truly overcompensating- a beautiful display of such ugly, overpriced boots. As it was close to closing, the store wasn't full at all. She hoped this would work to her advantage.

Wasting no time in finding her boot, she marched over to a sales counter with the boot of happy in her hand and slightly slammed it on the counter. The two girls who had been chatting deeply looked over and one broke away to attend to a slightly intimidating Rogue.

"This shoe, this color, size seven," Rogue briskly started, barely able to keep from hissing. She wanted these boots, and she wanted them _now_. If this store didn't have it (even though she was certain one of these bitches was the one that was on the phone with her earlier today told Rogue it was in stock), she was going to go into a psyche induced rage and blow up every Ugg store in the tri-state area. She was in a race against the clock against one Remy LeBeau and _she refused to lose_.

There was no time to wait for the verdict. The girl was out quick and Rogue struggled not to try and decipher the look on her face. She kept her eyes up top, not wanting to see the sales girl's empty hands.

"Well," the girl started to sigh, "I'm sorry to tell you that you've got some pretty bad luck. We just sold our last pair in that style, color, and size about 10 minutes ago."

The harsh words echoed through her head. No. No, this bitch was lying! Her plans were so carefully wrought! So much time and dreaming had gone into this plan! Rogue banged her head pitifully into the counter and made a small, just as pitiful sound. Ignoring the bewildered stares of the sales girl, she shuffled out of the door and onto the corner. The Ugg maker had giveth and taketh away and she was not worthy of them. She didn't even know what other stores to even shop at, considering most of her gothy boots had come from gothy stores and gothy websites- _none_ of which would have Uggs.

Looking around the crowded streets, she felt lost and confused and sad. So very sad.

Jolting her out of her stupor, she felt her bag start vibrating incessantly. She groaned. Talking to people was the last thing she wanted to do. Rogue let it go to voicemail- she hardly cared if anyone cared where she was.

But it wouldn't stop. Three calls later, she took out her phone and read the caller ID.

It was Remy.

She felt her sadness erupt into fiery rage. It was _his_ fault she didn't have her Uggs! So much time was wasted trying to avoid that goddamn, stupid Cajun! He had been a thorn in her side all day and now that he had figured out her secret…

Remy. LeBeau. Must. Die.

Pounding accept into her phone, she hissed through painfully gritted teeth. "I'm gonna fuckin' murder your ugly, stupid Cajun ass."

The laughing vibrated in her ear. If she had super strength, the phone would have been in a million different pieces- as would Remy LeBeau.

"Sounds like someone didn't find what they were lookin' for, _hein_?"

"Don't even try to hide. I'm gonna find you and then I'm going to beat you to the consistency of gumbo and then I'm gonna dump you in the bayou and feed you to the gators."

"So violent! And to think, all this Cajun wanted was to invite the Rogue for a drink, talk 'bout our day, relax. You sound way too stressed, _chére_."

She clenched her eyes and her fist harder. This was not happening. The idiot was playing with her, and subsequently, his life.

"_Mais_, if you want me to talk 'bout my day with someone else…"

God, this _was _happening.

"Where the fuck are you?" she hissed.

"There's a Starbucks not too far from you, on the corner 57th and 5th in the Trump buildin'. You like coffee, _hein_?"

She hung up, not even bothering to confirm she'd be there. She began marching over, not even bothering to use her map. She knew where it was. It was one of her potential alibis.

And as she went up to the escalator, she felt her anger escalating. She didn't care about making a scene- now she just wanted bloody, bloody revenge.

Feeling the gaze at the back of her neck the entire ride, she hunted him down quickly and towered over his lounging frame.

"_Bonsoir, chére_, I see you found me," he lazily drawled, smirking that infuriating smirk. "Sit, relax," he stretched.

Rogue calmed her fist and breathing, knowing she had to play along to see if he had told anyone her secret- to see if she'd have to kill someone else too. Today had the potential to get very messy.

Rogue sat primly, ready to bolt or lash out if necessary. Training with Logan taught her many things about striking someone who outdrew you- and before she could go over what would be most useful, a barista stepped in front and placed two steaming drinks on their table.

"Here you go, handsome," she winked, swaying her hips like a stripper.

"_Merci beaucoup_," he thanked and winked back as she walked away. He picked up his drink and began to drink. "'S that espresso you like so much. Didn't drug it, I swear," he smirked. She continued to stare him down.

Remy took in the surrounding area leisurely and stretched back. "'S a nice place. Good décor. Wonder how much it all would go for, if you know what I mean." When his attention finally shifted back to her, he pouted at her stoically angry face.

"What do you want?" If she could just get it out of him, she could kill him guilt-free.

"So angry! I take it your day didn't go well at all?"

"Ten minutes was what kept me from those stupid boots, Cajun. If you hadn't been buggin' me all freakin' day, I wouldn't have to kill you today."

"Kill me?" he sounded aghast. "Why would you want to do a thing like that?"

"It would make this day still productive."

Chuckling into his drink, he shook his head. "So tell me, when did you decide to try and get yourself a pair? Tired of stealin' Kitty's?"

Blood shot up to her cheeks. And she thought she had been so sneaky about this whole endeavor! Why did the moron not have a life?

"It's a Christmas present for Kitty. Stop with your babblin'," she muttered into her drink.

Waving his hand, Remy scoffed. "She don't celebrate Christmas much and you know it. It ain't nothin' to be ashamed of, _chére_."

"Why the hell are you followin' me? What do you want?"

He shrugged easily, lazily. "Nothin'. Just wanted a coffee."

"Liar! You did not stalk me at three different stores just to have coffee!"

He laughed. "Of course not! Just wanted to see what was so secretive you had to go get Logan to mess with my bike and make me steal his."

Rogue banged her head on the table. It _was _Logan's bike she heard earlier. What was meant to deter him from following her made him follow her even more. _And _he was suicidal enough to steal Logan's bike (because Logan sure as hell wouldn't just hand over the keys). She just couldn't _win_ with this guy.

"You gotta small foot. Size 7? I woulda thought maybe a size 8 at least."

"Uggs run big," she muttered into the table. "And don't call my feet fat."

"Didn't think you'd like this simple style though."

Her head shot up at the crinkling of paper. It was a worn paper, full of marks and ink and creases. It was her plan. It was her shoes. He stole her paperwork she had so carefully hidden in her purse.

"I hate you." Rogue's head was back on the table.

"You sure?"

"As positive as a pregnant lady."

"That's too bad," he sipped at his coffee, feigning sadness.

"Why? Cuz I'll have to kill you?"

She heard more rustling but she ignored it. She was tired and drained and just wanted to curl up in her bed and mourn her loss. She had no more fight left. Life had truly sucked the fight out of her.

"Cuz I'll have to take these back."

"What in tarnation are you-" Rogue lifted her head wearily and immediately recoiled.

On the table was a bag. A white bag. A white bag with UGG printed neatly in black ink.

"What the hell is that?" Her eyes were wide and her heart was pounding. It wasn't… that would just be weird….

"It's a puppy," he deadpanned.

Her eyes flashed up to him.

"And it bites."

Eyes back to the bag.

"Hard."

Back to him.

"Just open it."

"YOU got the last pair?" she near whispered. This day was just turning out to be a really weird dream.

"Did I? How lucky…"

Rogue shook her head. How the hell was she supposed to react? This… this was _weird_.

"What's the catch?" There was always a catch with him.

"No catch."

"There's always a catch with you."

Remy shrugged. "Would it make you feel better if there was?"

"Probably not."

"Then what's it matter?"

"Cuz you just bought me two hundred dollar shoes."

"Who said it's for you?"

She glared.

"Think of it as an early Christmas present."

"Who says I celebrate Christmas?"

"Cuz you're a Southern Baptist Protestant and you spend every Christmas hangin' with Scott and the staff."

She groaned in her hands. "Whyyyy?"

"I get bored."

"Apparently."

"So you gonna see if they're the right ones or am I gonna have to tell Kitty to phase them on your feet again?"

"How the hell do you know about _that_?"

"Kitty likes to vent sometimes."

Rogue just looked at the bag again. She was tingling with excitement… but still…

"This feels weird."

Remy sighed. "How 'bout since I so valiantly saved the last pair for you, you can do me a favor," he offered.

Rogue's eyes narrowed. "What kind of favor?"

"Dunno yet," he shrugged, and then rolled his eyes at her expression. "It won't go against your morals or anythin' like that."

Hesitantly, Rogue reached out to grab the bag gingerly. His hand shot out and stopped her.

"_Mais, _first," he grinned like the Cheshire Cat. "I gotta hear it right. Does The Rogue like Uggs?"

Through clenched eyes and clenched teeth, she heaved a labored sigh. "Yes. The Rogue likes Uggs."

A smirk later and he let go of her hand. "Then by all means, proceed."

Just because he got these doesn't mean she still didn't want to kill him.

With slightly shaking fingers, she let herself demolish the bag and the box and with a speed that could impress Quicksilver, they were on her feet and she was grinning like the idiot in front of her.

"I take it you don't like them?"

"Shut up," she retorted as she leaned back and completely lost herself in their new, fluffy-only-for-her, loving embrace. _So… good…_

However a long time later, Rogue's eyes fluttered open and she met Remy's smirking gaze. She smiled sweetly.

"Your life's been spared. You'll live another day."

"'S good to hear."

"You realize that breathin' any sort of word about this day will lead to me drainin' you stupid, exposin' every itty, bitty thing 'bout you, and then bringin' upon a slow, painful death that can only be rivaled by Apocalypse, right?"

"I figured as much."

"Smart boy. You'll go far."

Leaning back again, she heard a psyche chanting a rhyme in the back of her mind.

'Secret secrets are no fun; secret secrets hurt someone.'

She giggled. They certainly could hurt someone.

* * *

><p>So… This is the result of many things. Stress, writers block, and realizing my Uggs need new insoles. Let me say that I didn't intend to offend Ugg-wearers. I am, like Rogue, a reluctant Ugg-wearer. My dorm roommate had a pair and she told me to try them on even though I harbor extreme hatred for the classic flavor. They were comfy and I was hooked. I still feel guilty. So this is just a fun little one-shot that sprung from me cleaning out my closet. It <em>can<em> go into my current work 'The Wreckage' and I even considered making it into a chapter for it. But this little sub-story didn't work into the feel of 'The Wreckage,' so I decided to one shot it. I'll let you know when it'll become relevant to TW. It's not a must read, but it may play a role in the future. I don't know yet.

In any case, I hope you've enjoyed this rather long one-shot. I wanted to do something fun and not so dark. All of the fun secrets at the beginning I took from my own past of Rogue-like gothiness. I will stand by snuggies- they are AMAZING when you're dying sick, seriously, and they make for good Jedi coats for wrapping-paper-roll light saber battles. That's the only time though. I've never been to NY, so if anything doesn't match up to you NYers, sorry! I was using Google Maps for my info. Also, if you've never heard the saying at the end of the story, then you should watch the American 'The Office'. It was the advice a stripper gave to Michael Scott; I found it to be a really fun, apropos saying.

Review me please! I enjoy feedback a lot!


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